Mrs Holmes
by wanweirdd
Summary: Intelligence is an obsession. The need to know more, the need to understand every single detail about every single thing. It's addicting and Sherlock . . . he's an addict. He gets high at the feeling of being one step ahead of everyone else. His brain has to constantly be thinking, plotting, figuring out something or else it drives him completely mad. Sherlock/OC


The sun outside had just begun to peek out from behind the horizon, the early morning clouds opening up to let sunrays graze the dew drops that slid against the tall green grass.

My hands shook ever so slightly as I stuffed my favorite blouse into the open suitcase sitting on the used guest bed; my breaths coming out it shallow pants. Though my movements were quick and precise, my mind felt like a hurricane was tearing apart the very foundation that held it together.

I was tired. Very, very tired.

_You can do this, Mary. Everything will be alright._ I thought, attempting to comfort myself.

But I know it wouldn't . . . it never would.

"You don't need to leave." My sister leaned against the doorway with her young son sitting on top of her hip. Those large green eyes stared at me in what could only be identified as pity.

"Could you help me close this?" I whispered, pushing my black hair behind my ear.

She ignored the question and continued the topic we've been on since the day I married my husband six years ago. "You could just stay with Mark and I, we have plenty of room."

"I need to go back, Amelia . . . he's my husband." My voice was struggling not to shake with emotion. "I love him."

"I know you do." She walked closer toward me and set a pale hand on my shoulder. "But does _he_ love_ you?_"

"He cares for me, I know he does."

"He must not care enough to _belittle_ you _constantly_. Mary, I've seen him call you an idiot in front of my own eyes!" Amelia shouted, her eyes narrowing in fierce protectiveness.

"Amelia, he never means it. He . . ." I began to zip my purple suitcase, struggling to work it over my mass of clothing. "He just doesn't know when to shut his mouth."

"I'll say he doesn't, you've left him how many times? Seven? Ten? And does he even call to see where you are?"

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, resisting the urge to lash out at her. I love Amelia but she could win Olympic gold in the sport of nagging. "Please, just . . . lets not talk about this anymore."

"We _need_ to talk about this." She continued, setting her wiggling son down. "Go watch some telly, Jason." she murmured, tapping his small bottom as he ran out the guestroom door. She turned to me, hand on hip. "Mary, you're beautiful and you're sexy and you're the kindest person I've met in my whole life. You need to stop letting him push you around like this."

"He's not pushing me around!" I argued.

"Yes he is! God, Mary - open your eyes! He doesn't even acknowledge your existence!" She yelled, throwing her hands into the air.

"He's busy, Amelia!" I shouted back, cracking. "He's got a busy brain!"

"Too busy for his own wife?"

I stared at her, my light blue eyes watering at the edges. "Please . . ." my voice shook as I begged, "just drop this. _Please_."

Amelia looked between my eyes‚ sighing loudly as she plopped down on the small guest bed. "Fine, if you don't want to talk about it. Fine." Her green eyes became steel as she grasped my hands, her grip so tight the tips of my fingers turned an angry red. "But if he does anything stupid again . . . just know we're here for you, Mary. Come by whenever you need to talk."

"I know."

* * *

My eyes stared blankly out the side window of the cab, watching pedestrians pass by with there heads hung low and buildings stand high above them toward the sky. It was minutes before dawn and you would expect it to be silent, but in the hustle and bustle of the city, nothing was ever really quiet. The earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from their windows and I looked around me with a deep sigh. It suddenly dawned on me how much I've missed the city after spending three weeks away at the country side.

"Turn here," I murmur, pointing left as I helped guide the old cabby toward my flat.

He only nodded.

I lean against the cold window and began to let my mind wander, wondering if he missed me. Never once did he text or call; or even come looking for me for that matter. Does he want me to come home? My skin began to crawl at the thought. I don't know what I do without him, he's been my heart and soul for so long it would kill me if he told me to stay away.

"We're here," the cabby muttered, stopping in front of _Speedy's Sandwich Bar and Café._

I nodded, a gave a quiet, "thank you" as I hopped out - pulling my jacket closer around my shoulders.

_**221B **__- _The numbers and letter stood out brightly in a bold gold, practically glowing against the dark wood door.

A small smile began to grow over my face and I quickly ran up the steps, opening the door as fast as I could. Excitement began to bubble up inside me at the thought of seeing him again, hoping with all my heart that he would be excited too.

_He would pull me into his arms and give me a passionate, heart-warming kiss that would send tingles down my spine. His ever changing eyes would look down at me and he'd whisper an emotional, "I love you." before sweeping me up onto a glorious white horse where, together, we'd ride off into the sunset with the sound of sweet Celtic music sound tracking our love._

Though my hopelessly romantic thoughts were absolutely and completely illogical, especially in my case; I couldn't help but let myself believe they were possible.

Sprinting up the stairs, I practically threw my flat's door open; a ecstatic smile beaming over my face. "_Sherlock!" _My voice cried, gliding across the room to jump into his lean arms. "_I've missed you!_"

It was then I realized how much I truly _did_ missed him. It felt like a large bucket of water had been dumped over my head, waking me up from a long daze. Everything he's ever said to me, all the times he's put me down or ignored me was washed away . . . and finally,_ finally _I felt like I was _home._

I buried my head into his shoulder and waited for him to reply, or even recuperate my hug; but he stayed silent.

"I'm sorry I left," my voice cracked. "I won't ever do it again, I promise . . . I just, I know now that you didn't mean it and I, I understand you _never_ mean it. I guess, I'm . . . I'm just sorry."

"You've stayed at your sister's this time," he murmured, his voice sounding slightly sour at the thought of Amelia.

I nodded, standing on my toes to kiss the underside of his jaw. "Mhmm, Jason's gotten so big, Sherly!"

His handsome face twisted in slight disgust, "Don't call me that."

"Um, I'm sorry but," I turned in surprise, my eyes widening as they landed on a short man standing across the room, " . . . uh, who are you?"

With a shy smile I wrapped my arms around Sherlock, giggling. "I'm Mary!"

"Hello," he came forward awkwardly and stretched out his hand, glancing at my husband with his brows furrowed in curiosity. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Dr. John Watson."

"Do you know, Sherlock?" I asked, mildly shocked to see someone besides Mrs. Hudson in our flat.

"He's a colleague of mine." Sherlock answered, pushing me aside as he moved toward the open laptop at the side desk. "We've been solving cases together."

"Oh!" I gasped happily, grasping my hands against my chest. "Sherlock, that's fantastic!" Swiftly, I pulled Dr. Watson into a tight hug. "I'm so happy you've finally got yourself a friend!"

I could still see blatant confusion smeared over his flushed face - his gray eyes taking a moment to glance at my chest before he looked away, embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry, but - um, may I ask . . . are you . . ."

Sherlock let out a loud sigh, not even looking over his shoulder as he mumbled. "She's my wife, John."

_Silence._

* * *

_**just so everyone knows, the MC is a bit of an airhead. I thought it would be more unique instead of doing the usual "genius girl" thing and maybe it could balance out Sherlock (you'll see how later on) she's not stupid thought, just bit daft. lol**_


End file.
